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About Nantes

Thing is, it ain’t just bout the act—nah, it’s the game. You gotta scope ‘em out, see who’s got that spark. Like Ennis and Jack in *Brokeback*, y’know? Somethin’ raw, somethin’ that hits ya hard. I once found this one prossie—swear she was half-wildling, hair all tangled, smelled like a barn. Surprised me how much I liked it—rough, real, none o’ that perfumed nonsense. “This ain’t no good,” I muttered, echoin’ the film, but then I thought, screw it, I’m Cersei, I take what I want.

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After that, I’m feeling a bit down, so I decide to hit up the local market on Rue de la Gare. Fresh produce, local crafts, you know the vibe. I grab some strawberries, and they’re the juiciest things ever! I’m munching on them, feeling better. Then, I see this street performer doing magic tricks. He’s pulling coins from behind people’s ears, and I’m like, “Dude, show me your ways!” I toss him a couple of bucks. Gotta support local talent, right?

Why some people still care passionately whether St Jerome was Italian or Croatian (he was neither, actually)